Broken: The Leah Clearwater Story
by thewolfgurlgleek
Summary: Snippets of Leah's feelings since Sam has left her and bits of their relationship before and during the things that went wrong. Will it all become too much for Leah to bear, or will she rise against the odds? COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry I've been somewhat MIA with school and things, so it's been pretty hard to even breathe, let alone let the creative juices flow. For the moment however, I'm back. This is somewhat of an angst-ridden oneshot, but it's something I've been wanting to write for a long time, and I've been going through some things lately so I figured, why not write it now? I think I finally have the right words. This is about Leah's perspective in somewhat present-day, but also flashback form when Sam imprinted on Emily. I've always wondered what goes through her head, and this is it. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. It all belongs to Stephanie Meyer.**

I've always wondered how a heart continues to beat when it's in a million pieces. Does it simply stop, and the pain that comes with heartbreak is a result of its continued efforts to restart? Or does it keep going, the ache stemming from the shards trying to piece themselves back together again? My guess parallels more closely to the first option, because in my case there's not much left of my heart in order for the latter to work.

I'm the living and breathing aftermath of a cataclysmic earthquake. The carnage surrounding me is obvious, as well as the grief. But the most stunning similarity of all is that there is so much rubble that most people don't want to sift through it long enough to discover what is left behind.

Every day I have to walk into that house now, _their_ house, and I am expected to pretend that everything is alright. Ha, fat chance.

They all expect me to be okay with this. She was my cousin, more than that, _my best friend._ And him… he was… _everything._ Or at least he was before. Before this whole werewolf voodoo shit came into the picture, when we were still _us_ and Sam and I had plans to go to UW and leave La Push behind us for good. Now we were both stuck on this crap reservation. Both of us without much of a future, and without each other. The latter was the only thing that happened to matter to me.

I remember the day I met him like it was yesterday. It was a chilly December afternoon. We were, after all, in Washington. Back then, I remember being worried about the same things every normal freshman girl worries about: finals, who in our group of friends was going to get their license first, and boys.

I had been at my locker, and when I slammed it shut, I jumped at the sight before me. It was this near-six-foot-tall sophomore guy, with thick dark hair covering his head like ink, nearly black brooding eyes that could convince you of almost anything and a pair of biceps you'd often see on some pumped up biker in the movies.

"Hi," he said, his deep baritone sending shivers up my spine in a way that should have scared me, but for some reason, it didn't. A moment later, I realized just who it was that I was talking to. This was _Sam Uley,_ for the love of Taha Aki! My friends would often whisper about him, and everyone thought he was this big mystery. His father left him and his mom when he was really young, and he apparently didn't talk about it very much. Or rather, he didn't talk to anyone about anything very much. So why would he be talking to me?

"Um… hello?" I whispered, smiling softly. _Why did that come out like a question?_ I remember wondering.

"You're Leah Clearwater," he had stated matter-of-factly, flashing me a lopsided grin that I didn't know would have so much of a deep effect on me in the coming months.

"And you're Sam Uley," I challenged him right back. "What's it to you?"

"Ooh feisty," he countered me, quirking an eyebrow. "I just came over here to ask you one question, answer it, and I'll be out of your hair for the rest of my life, I promise you."

"Alright then," I laughed once. "Then why don't you get to it?"

"Because I just can't seem to figure you out," he grinned. "As a matter of fact, the more time I spend with you, the more questions I seem to have."

"Oh? So I suppose that means you'll never get out of my hair, huh?" I had teased, playfully swishing it behind my shoulder.

"No, I suppose not," he chuckled. "However, if you let me try my questions out on you during coffee tonight, I suppose I may get through all my questions eventually."

"And if you don't?"

"Well then, I suppose we'll have to keep the coffee dates going until I'm out of questions."

And for the next two years of our lives, that's exactly what we did. He never ran out of questions, and neither did I. No matter what it was that I said, or what it was that he said, we both seemed to like the answer every time.

We fell in love with each other quickly, through stolen moments and whispered kisses even when times seemed most difficult. My parents loved him, and Seth considered him to be an older brother. Yes, we fought. Sometimes more frequently than others, and every fight, no matter how silly, was always loud and passionate. One of us would be mad at the other for days, sometimes weeks, before the other came to apologize. Our make ups always happened the same way: one of us would knock on the other's door, and the one who was receiving the apology would give that same smug look we had given one another on the day we met, pull the other one into our arms and say "I told you so."

But when Sam hit his senior year, things got difficult. He got busy, and so did I. I was taking the ACTs, and he was applying for college. We often went weeks without seeing each other, or talking on the phone, and one day… it became too much for us to handle.

He had met me at my house, said he'd lost any feeling for me. Obviously, I had cried hysterically, and for days I had done what I could to change his mind; no dice. For the next two weeks after that, I survived on the bear minimum amount of food, just enough to keep up appearances, and I would have nightly nightmares about the day he'd left. In some he would say he'd found someone else, in others he would simply utter the words "I hate you," and vanish. But the worst of all… the ones that would have me screaming into my pillow in the early hours of the morning were the ones where everything was fine. The ones where he would walk up to me, tug me softly into his arms and let my head rest on his chest and whisper the three words that set my soul on fire every time I heard them.

My friends had enough of me after about a week of this. "He's not worth it," they would scream at me. "This is getting pathetic Lee, he doesn't like you!" Deep in my heart, I knew I should have listened to them. But the larger part of my heart, the part that would always be Sam's, knew deep down that there was more to us, that there always would be.

Sure enough, two weeks after that there was a knock on my door. Sam was standing there when I opened it, looking like a kicked puppy. "I know you probably hate me," he said hoarsely. "Hell, you should hate me, and I wouldn't blame you if you did, but I have been nothing but a complete asshole these last couple weeks, and I miss you. I am _so_ sorry, Leah."

"I could never hate you," I whispered, tears brimming from my eyelids. "Granted, I feel like you punched me in the face and left me bruised and broken on the floor, but I could never hate you. I care too much for that."

After that night, things were perfect for the next few weeks. Every time Sam saw me he would hold me tight in his arms and make sure I always walked away knowing that he cared.

I remember that day, a Friday, the end of the week. He had pulled me close after I had had a particularly rough day. Someone had picked a fight with me at school in regards to Sam, bringing up the painful time in which he had left me, saying that it was bound to happen again. He had simply kissed my forehead and said "Babe, I promise you I am not going anywhere." And then he'd left me for the night. That was the last time things were normal between us. I would give absolutely anything to go back to that day, and do anything I could to have stopped this; because the next day Sam went missing.

When he finally came back, he wasn't the same. He wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't look me directly in the eye. As a matter of fact, the next time he did talk to me, it was to tell me that he didn't want me anymore, that it was too much for him, and that he wanted out. What had changed in a few days? You can't go from "I'm not leaving," to "See ya later," in a matter of a couple of days. If only I had known then what I know now.

Now I'm standing here in my mother's house. My father dead, my brother staring at me with a look of utter contempt, and my mother shrieking at me, wondering what I ever did to deserve this. "You _have_ to be a bridesmaid at that wedding, Leah!" she screamed. "Emily is your cousin! My niece! She wants nothing more for you than to be her maid of honor!"

"I've told you mom," I responded heatedly. "I can't do it. End of story. I don't care how it reflects on you. I need to save myself."

"You cannot isolate yourself from the world just because Sam doesn't love you anymore! And no wonder he did, his imprint can't be so whiny and annoying anyway! Get over it!"

Her every word hit me like a slap in the face, and judging by her suddenly sullen expression, she seemed to know it.

Before she could say another word, I ran out of the house to the cliffs; the one place where I could be alone. I was at the end of the earth, sky and sea now. The currents crashing against the rocks below me exhibited all the emotions that I could never escape. Depression, rage, even confusion.

Sometimes I wondered if it would just be better to end it all. My mother hated me, my brother no longer knew how to act around me, and my father… the one person who ever understood how it felt when I was left… had died. My phasing had killed him; he'd never known it was possible for a female. Because, in all actuality it shouldn't have been. I was a genetic abnormality. A freak. Maybe that was why Sam couldn't love me. Maybe that's why it was _her._ Her and not me.

The one time I'd ever felt loved, the one time I'd ever felt understood. The one person that could always make me better, made me feel like a better person than I actually was. The one person I would give anything to spend one more day with… gone.

This was it. I gazed down at the water below me, like it was the essence of life itself. In this moment, it seemed to be. Water could be what gave life to a living thing, but it could also be what took it away too. That wasn't how I wanted to look at it, though. The water… it would be what finally brought me the peace I needed so badly.

Maybe once it submerged me, I would be able to breathe again. Maybe there, in another world, my heart would be whole again, and I would be loved. Maybe I would be with my father again. And maybe Sam would be there. Not in the literal sense of course. In the literal sense, I wanted him to be happy here on earth, but where I was going, I wanted him too. I wanted to feel the joy our love brought me coursing through my veins again, instead of the dead, dull needles that ran through them now. If heaven was the only way I could get that, then maybe that was where I would go. That is to say, if it is decided that I'm a good enough person to be there. With my luck, I could very well go to hell. It wouldn't be much of a change. It already feels like I am there.

I stepped back from the edge, wanting to get a running start, so I could feel the wind rush through my hair one more time.

With that I began to charge forward. And for the first time in so long, I felt freed in the fact that I might be able to be happy again.

But just as I was about to meet the edge, I felt a pair of arms incase me. A pair that I was all too familiar with. One that I had been yearning for, for so long.

"And just where do you think you're going?" he murmured, his lips brushing my ear.

"You don't, l-love me anymore," I choked out, finally allowing the sobs I had been holding in for so long to break free.

"Who ever said that?" he said, turning me around in his arms and gripping me by the shoulders. "I need you here with me. I love you. That doesn't change. Stay here. Stay with me; I am not going anywhere."

With that I collapsed in his arms. Allowing his warmth to envelope me. For the first time in so long, I felt whole again, loved again. He was here, he was mine, and that was enough for me.

 **A/N: So that's a little look into Leah's head coupled with the ending that I think she deserves! Remember, if you love someone enough, they will be back. For any of you that are sad right now, remember that I love you. Thank you for reading!**

 **-thewolfgurlgleek :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So… looks like this oneshot turned into a two-shot guys. I know I have a few other stories I should be working on but in all honesty this is all I have the emotional capacity to write at the moment so I hope you enjoy. Just needed to get some things out and embodying Leah is the best way to do that for me.**

 **Disclaimer: If I owned Twilight so much would be different.**

 **Leah POV:** And then my eyes fluttered open. I must have been dreaming again. Of course. Why would Sam ever leave his imprint for… me? I rolled onto my side and curled up in fetal position, like I so often did nowadays. It was the only way to clench the enormity of the pain that ebbed through me.

When Sam first left me, people kept telling me with sympathetic eyes and open arms that they knew how I felt, that it would get better. "It's a high school relationship," they all said. I hated that term. _High School Relationship._ It makes it sound like it means less than the ones people have in college, throughout the rest of their life. Why degrade it? A relationship is a relationship, regardless of what age it begins. You read articles in the paper all the time about an elderly couple where one spouse has passed on and the other dies hours later even though their health was perfectly normal. Who ever said you couldn't die of a broken heart? More often than not, those same elderly couples met when they were around fifteen or sixteen. That was when I met Sam.

It's the closed minded thinking associated with the term "high school relationship" that got me thinking. Nobody knows how this feels. Not really. At least not anyone who was actually at or below a high school maturity level. Most high school kids don't know what it is to fall in love.

To be honest, I didn't think I knew what it was either, not until I lost him. A lot of the time, love is something that stems out of habit, out of being with that person every day and not being used to life without them. Granted, our relationship _did_ last three years. Some may argue that I'm still not used to it. But I am. I know now that no matter how much I wish for it I don't get to wake up beside him. I don't get to steal kisses in between classes at school, I don't get to run into his arms at the end of the day or have the last thing I see at night be a text from him saying that he loves me or that I need my sleep. As much as I try to forget sometimes, as much as I wake up every day and pretend that's what will happen so that I can get myself through the first few minutes of the day, I know that will never happen.

It is hell. The whole pack makes fun of me, they can see inside my head. They know I'm not over him, they know I've grown to resent Emily because of it. And what's worse is, it's not just them. _He_ knows. He knows that every time I look at him there's a mixture of butterflies in my stomach and knives in my heart. He knows better than anyone that the light in my eyes has gone, that I am nothing more than a shell of the girl I once was. I know that it pains him to see this, to know that this is what he has done to me, but it's not like I can do much to help it.

I remember a few months ago, everyone was freaking out over Bella Swan and her reaction to the leeches leaving town. I remember hearing my father say "Good riddance. We don't need those _things_ gallivanting about, and Bella may not see it now but she'll be much better off without them."

 _A zombie,_ they had compared her to when Edward Cullen abandoned her. Poor kid. I remembered Bella from my childhood, all our moms had been friends before Charlie and Renee got a divorce. That one was always a bright spirit. She didn't deserve to have her love taken away. My mother had told me then that she was thinking of bringing Bella by to see me, that I could help her cope through losing someone she loved. That was the first time in years I had yelled at my mother. How could she not see? Me, help someone else whose heart had been broken? How could she not know that even though I didn't always act like a zombie outright, that's how I felt inside? Cold and empty. The contents of my heart burnt to a crisp, nonexistent now. I could never help another person; I didn't even know how to help myself.

Being by myself, being where I am right now, is when it hurts the most. I don't even have my girlfriends to talk to. Sure, pack rules and all were not to let others know about the pack, but that came with a bunch of caveats in my case. I was a girl and I hung out with a bunch of guys who were considered to be a cult, with my ex as the ring leader. My friends had all seen it as me either whoring around with his friends or trying desperately to get him to love me again. Neither one was true, but it's not like I could offer them any other excuse.

Even before I had to join the pack, before I knew about he and Emily, they hadn't supported me wanting to fix things with him. "He'll only break you again," they told me. "You're getting pathetic."

As much as I didn't want to admit it, I knew they were right. I mean, how pathetic do you have to be to love someone even when they dismiss you, make it clearly with just their actions rather than their words that they no longer want you? How pathetic must I be to think that if Sam really did come and apologize right now, I would take him back with open arms? How pathetic must I be, if no matter what he does to me, I'll still do anything for him? How much worse can it get?

People describe depression who has no will to get out of bed, no will to join the world. But people often forget that some who are depressed have many qualms about joining the world, but do it anyway to hide their depression. That's what I started doing a couple weeks after Sam disappeared from my life. I got up, got dressed, and behaved as closely to normal as I could get. People were starting to get sick of me, so I began to say that I was over it, that I was fine.

I am not fine, and I never will be again. I had been hurt before Sam, but I could always see myself bouncing back. Not anymore. I am stuck this way. I am stuck being alone. My brother hates me, none of my friends will want to hear this… and Sam couldn't care any less whether or not I was dead or alive. I am alone in this. I am silently screaming, the Leah I once knew fighting to come out and rejoin the world again. But she cannot. The world does not hold a place for that Leah any longer. The world I know now does not hold any trace of light or happiness or… love. As far as _this_ Leah is concerned, love does not exist.

Love is a trick of the mind. Only a trick because, often times, you may feel an intense amount of love, but that person may disappear from your life forever. They don't love you. They never did. They never _will._ And you will be forced to wonder what it is you did to deserve such a terrible fate.

You will develop your thick skin, you will rebuild all the walls you once had up to protect you from love, but it does not come without cost. Forever, you grieve for the love you once had, and the grief hardens you. You become a bitch. Cold-hearted, self-centered, all the bells and whistles. But with it, you realize that being alone is the only thing that will ever exist. Anyone who "cares" about you leaves sooner or later. All I have is me. A broken, battered me, but me nonetheless.

 **A/N: This isn't true for all people. Some get lucky enough to have love. Others, well, we end up like Leah. And that is okay. I'm thinking of making this into a oneshot series. Thoughts? I love you all.**

 **Thanks for Reading,**

 **-thewolfgurlgleek :)**


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